


Exquisite

by sherlockholmesconsultingvampire



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming In Pants, Embarrassed Sherlock, Explicit Sexual Content, Inexperienced Sherlock, Loss of Virginity, Loud Sex, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Praise Kink, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, loud sherlock, responsive sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockholmesconsultingvampire/pseuds/sherlockholmesconsultingvampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have been together for a while now, but everytime they get start to get intimate, Sherlock pulls away. What happens when Sherlock stays and John finds out his secret?</p><p>Written for a prompt for the lovely KittieHill</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exquisite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittieHill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/gifts).



"How on earth you got all that from the colour of his shoelaces, just... amazing, as always, Sherlock." 

"It was simple, really. If he had been careful and not spilt the chemical on his shoes, there surely would have been some other idiotic mistake that would have led to his discovery."

John laughed and sighed happily as he pulled Sherlock through the door to Baker Street and tucked his keys into his pocket. They'd just got home after a phone call from Greg had landed them chasing a criminal through a school science lab, startling teachers and students alike. They'd weaved between the desks and shouted after the janitor who'd been attempting to poison a few of the teachers who'd made rude comments to him about his rank in the school. The man had been taking chemicals from the science storage cupboards during his later shifts, and spreading a concoction of chemicals onto the inside of the victim's coffee mugs. By the time the teachers had come in the next morning, the chemicals had dried and the smell had dissipated, but the poisonous effect remained, and as a result had left two teachers in hospital for treatment. The janitor had been caught out when Sherlock had spotted the stain on the floor, the effect matching that on the man's shoelaces.

Now they were home at last, and the thrill of the chase had got John's blood pumping with adrenaline. He pulled the detective towards him and pushed the taller man back against the wall, and Sherlock let out a huff of breath as the heat of John's body pressed up against him. The usual pang of panic whenever things got a little too close for comfort set in, and Sherlock found himself needing to take a few calming breaths before he lifted his arms to wrap around John's waist, trying his best to keep himself composed in front of his soldier even as he felt his pulse rise, and the familiar burn of arousal deep in his abdomen.

_Don't give anything away..._

John noticed the way Sherlock's body tensed beneath his own momentarily, and he halted his ministrations to check that everything was okay. They'd been together for a few months now, but had shared nothing more than a few heated kisses and light groping that usually had Sherlock making excuses to leave before it could progress any further. The last thing John wanted right now was Sherlock to run off again. 

"Sherlock? You okay?"

_He doesn't know, he can't._

"Yes, John. Of course," Sherlock assured, running his dexterous fingers under John's coat along the rough material of his jumper. He stifled his wince at the horrible feel of the scratchy wool and let his hands trail lower to rest on the curve of John's arse.

Cupid bow lips met soft stubble as Sherlock closed the small gap between their mouths, and flicked his tongue against John's bottom lip. John moaned at the intimate act and proceeded to open his mouth to allow Sherlock's tongue access to his own, and when Sherlock pressed inside tentatively, John groaned and grabbed Sherlock's hands, pinning them above his head against the wall. 

Sherlock's heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest with John's display of dominance, and God help him he wanted to submit, especially when John's hips bucked forwards and ground against Sherlock's painfully hard cock. Sherlock whimpered as John started to rut against him, the noises he was making utterly erotic and louder than they should have been given that they were still in the foyer, far too close to Mrs Hudson's front door.

As John's movements became rougher, Sherlock's groans grew louder, and he felt the overwhelming heat pooling in his groin far too fast.

_No, no, no, not yet. Deep breaths, focus._

John's tongue was doing ungodly things to his mouth now and as a particularly well placed thrust of John's cock ground against his _just right_ , Sherlock felt his whole body tense up as something was set free inside of him. A bright blinding light obscured his vision as he held his breath, and a feeling of free fall consumed him until he was finally able to breathe again.

He opened his eyes to a very startled John staring at him, before the doctor took a step back and looked down to see a wet patch forming rather quickly on the black material of Sherlock's trousers.

_No, no, no, no, no._

Sherlock was mortified. 

He'd actually come in his trousers. 

John would be repulsed, there was no way he wouldn't know the truth now. He'd laugh at Sherlock and call him horrible degrading things. He'd leave Sherlock alone as he had been before.

Sherlock did all that he could do. He pushed John away from him and ran up the stairs to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and removing his soiled clothing before stepping into the shower and turning the water to run cold.

John could do nothing but gape as he watched Sherlock disappear through the door into 221b with a slam.

 

x

 

It had been two hours and twelve minutes since 'the incident', as Sherlock had taken to calling it in his mind. He'd showered quickly and thrown his clothes into a pile on the floor in disgust, and ran into his bedroom, swiftly locking the door behind him and pulling on a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms before climbing onto the bed and wrapping the duvet around himself protectively.

John had slowly made his way up the stairs after convincing Mrs Hudson that everything was okay, and that the loud moaning noises from Sherlock earlier were caused by him stumping his toe on the console table in the hallway, and certainly not from a bit of not so harmless frottage against the outdated wallpaper.

He'd walked straight into the kitchen, flicked the kettle on to boil, and made two cups of tea out of habit. He sighed, and left Sherlock's on the kitchen table on the small chance that the younger man might reappear as though nothing had happened, though that was about as likely as John opening the fridge to find vegetables instead of body parts in the crisper.

John had sat down in his usual chair, cup of tea in hand, and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. 

Or more importantly, what had happened _differently_.

They'd come home from a case where Sherlock had been his usual amazing self, followed by some heated kissing in the foyer. Nothing exactly new there, unless you counted the fact that Sherlock hadn't immediately pulled away when John got a little closer. In fact, it almost seemed as if Sherlock had initiated the more intimate contact as he ran those perfect long fingers up and over John's arse.

So why would Sherlock initiate something that he'd usually shy away from? An experiment, maybe? No, it seemed to be too spontaneous to have been planned in any way.

He remembered the slight hesitation when John had first pressed up against him, followed by a look of nervous resolve. So he wanted to follow through with whatever he thought was going to happen. But what exactly did happen? A little light grinding against one another, and Sherlock had come in his pants, like some kind of...

 _Shit_.

Why hadn't he seen it before? How did he not know this about the man he'd been seeing for three months? The man he'd lived with for over five years? The question had just never come up. And John had stood there and gaped at Sherlock like he was some kind of freak.

Sherlock was a virgin.

 _John Watson, you fucking idiot_.

John sighed and slammed his cup on the coffee table, lowering his head into his hands.

Sherlock probably hated him now; John wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to see him again. He'd really fucked this all up, and all because he hadn't _observed_. Sherlock would laugh and call him an idiot if it were anyone else.

He checked his watch and swore as he realised how long he'd be sitting stuck in his own thoughts. Over two hours; that wasn't going to go down well at all. But he had to try and make things right. Now that he knew, it didn't change the way he felt about Sherlock. He still wanted all the same things he always had, even before the three months. Only now, if Sherlock would let him, he could be the _first_ to give him all those things. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine as he stood and made his way to Sherlock's bedroom door.

He rapped lightly against the wood, listening closely for any sign of movement. He doubted Sherlock would be asleep, but he didn't want to wake the detective if he was; for Sherlock sleep was few and far between.

He heard a movement and a huff of breath from inside the room, and he dared to risk a few words through the wood.

"Sherlock? I know you're awake. Can we talk, please? I don't think I reacted very well to... what happened, but I want you to know that it's okay, it's very common for... well, you know. Please, open the door so we can talk?"

Sherlock lifted the pillow from his head when he heard John's knuckles against the wood, and waited for the berating comments that would surely come. When he heard John's awkward words through the door, he felt an odd feeling of relief and anger. Relief that John didn't seem to be put off by his lack of sexual experience, but angry that he assumed that Sherlock would be embarrassed about it. 

"Go away, John!" The detective curled up on himself in the tangled mess of covers as the doctor continued to speak through the door.

"Please, Sherlock, give me a chance to explain before you make a decision that... I honestly don't think I could live with. I can't lose you over this. Talk to me." John's voice broke mid way through his words, but he needed Sherlock to understand how important he was to John, how much John owed him, how much he was loved.

They'd never said it before, though they both had to know it as gospel. After everything they'd been through together and survived, the only real possible outcome was love, wasn't it? But still the words got stuck on John's tongue so often, it just never seemed the right time to say such a thing. John could imagine it though, lying in bed together as he stroked the sweaty curls from Sherlock's forehead and thrust in and out of him slowly, saying those words as he looked into those ever changing eyes, and Sherlock calling him an idiot for it. He wouldn't be upset, or disappointed, because he knew that Sherlock loved him too. There was no other path that they could take and survive.

John's hope spiked when he heard a low thud and light footsteps cross the room, getting closer to the door and stopping just outside of it, and then the quiet, fearful voice that asked, "Do you think me a freak, John?"

A low sob clawed its way from John's throat at the words, and he finally understood why Sherlock had reacted the way he had. He put his whole heart and soul into his voice as he whispered, "No, absolutely not, Sherlock, no."

A faint click sounded as the lock was disengaged and John's hands reached for the handle before he could stop himself. He opened the door to a red eyed Sherlock, pyjama bottoms hanging low on those beautiful hipbones, and he stepped into the room, letting the door click shut behind him. Holding out a hand, he entwined his fingers with Sherlock's and led them towards the bed, and pulled the dreaded jumper over his head and off. He climbed under the covers and pulled Sherlock possessively against his chest. 

It didn't take long before Sherlock was asleep in John's arms.

 

x

 

It was a few more days before the subject was broached again, as Sherlock was cuddled up against John on the brown leather sofa and Skyfall filled the television screen.

John startled when he felt the hand that had been resting peacefully on his thigh suddenly start to move higher, and he couldn't stop the flutter he felt in his stomach as his cock slowly started to harden at the touch. He shifted his legs together a little more to hide his erection from Sherlock, not wanting the brunet to get the wrong idea or feel pressured, but when those deft fingers reached the bulge under John's jeans and squeezed inexpertly, his legs fell open of their own volition, and he groaned and bucked into Sherlock's hand.

"Fffuck, Sherlock, what are you doing?" He stuttered brokenly, meeting Sherlock's eyes with a pleading expression.

"Don't you want this, John?" Sherlock asked as he flattened his hand and started to slowly stroke over the now rock hard tent, before his other hand started to work at John's belt. John's only response was a deep moan as his head fell back against the sofa, and a sigh of relief as the painful restriction of his belt was removed. "I want to taste you," Sherlock whispered, his voice shaky and full of need. 

John thought he could come from just that voice alone, especially with those words rolling off his tongue.

"Are you sure? We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, Sherlock. Your terms, one hundred percent."

Sherlock looked up at John with wide, nervous eyes and nodded, "Okay." His fingers moved to the buttons on John's jeans, and he slowly started to pop them open before he was stopped by John's hand covering his.

"Wait... can I make just one request?"

Sherlock looked at him with an expression of anticipation, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Can we go to your bedroom? I think we'd both be much more comfortable there," John asked, a smile coming to his lips to mirror that of Sherlock's as the detective released his held breath and nodded.

 

x

 

After the brief awkwardness as they reached Sherlock's bedroom and closed the door, unsure of how to proceed, John walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, the fingers of his left hand clenching reflexively.

Sherlock stood for a moment longer, his eyes unfocused as he tried to recall the correct procedure for such activity. He blinked the haze away and walked slowly towards the bed where John sat patiently, and stopped in front of him. His eyes met John's and held his gaze as his fingers started to work the buttons on John's shirt free, and John's breath hitched at the first moment of contact when Sherlock's fingers brushed the exposed skin of his chest.

Sherlock sighed as he popped open the last button and slipped the shirt from John's shoulders, his gaze falling down to the marred skin of the scar that he'd longed to press his lips to for far too long. He fought the temptation, and instead placed his hands on John's chest, and pushed him down onto the bed. He looked at the open buttons on John's jeans, and swallowed nervously before asking, "May I?"

John smiled up at Sherlock as the detective came to kneel on the bed next to him. "Of course. You don't need to ask, Sherlock. Whatever you want to do, we'll do."

He lifted his hips to allow Sherlock to remove the jeans and boxers in one go, and Sherlock felt his face pale as he saw John completely bared to him for the first time. To anyone else, John would probably seem rather average, but Sherlock could see the strength behind John's small stature, the firm muscles hidden beneath a softer stomach that had just a hint of tan left after his time in Afghanistan. Powerful thighs from running through the streets of London after criminals, and an old scar on the right from a knife wound. Maybe that limp hadn't stared out as psychosomatic after all.

The main point of his focus though, was the thick, reddened cock that lay hard against John's stomach. Sherlock shifted to straddle John's legs, bending over to get a better look at his desired target. Sherlock's fingers moved to circle the base of John's cock, and John struggled not to buck his hips at the touch. It was thicker than average, according to Sherlock's internet research, but about average length, and for the most part quite straight with slight curve at the end. There was a bead of precome at the tip, and Sherlock's tongue swiped over his bottom lip in anticipation of tasting it. His thumb slid over the top, smearing the fluid over the sensitive tip and making John hiss in pleasure. He did it again, to see John's reaction was the same, and catalogued the data.

 _Sensitive glans. More data required_.

He circled his hand around the base, and slowly started to stroke up and down the foreskin, feeling the ridges and veins as he experimented with his stroke. When he simply moved his hand up and down, John sighed in pleasure and seemed to relax, but when he added more pressure, John's breathing increased rapidly. It was when he added a slight twist to the movement on the upstroke and decreased the pressure on the way down, that John gripped the sheets until his knuckles turned white and bucked his hips up to fuck into Sherlock's fist. Sherlock doubted that John was even aware he was doing it, and when the detective ceased his movements, John opened his eyes and swore.

"Shit, Sherlock, I'm sorry. It was just... so... oh God, so perfect and I didn't..."

"John, it's okay," Sherlock interrupted him with a reassuring smile. "I don't want you to hold back, I want to see your reactions. I want to know what you enjoy."

John huffed a laugh, and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Well, you're a bloody fast learner, that's for sure."

Sherlock's smile turned into a wince as he shifted uncomfortably on John's legs.

"Are you okay? Did I..."

"No, John, I'm fine. Just... a little uncomfortable," Sherlock muttered, a pink blush starting high on his cheekbones. 

John swallowed and cleared his throat, trying to keep his nerves to a minimum. "Why don't you take them off? Nothing has to happen, but you'd be more comfortable without... with less pressure on it." 

Sherlock seemed to take a moment to compose himself, before climbing off of John and unbuttoning his trousers. He left them hanging loosely on his hips as his fingers started on his shirt, making quick work of the buttons and shucking it off his shoulders in haste, quickly followed by his trousers. He stood by the bed for a moment in just his black silk boxers, his eyes focused to a spot on the floor as the blush spread down his chest.

John thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You are magnificent," he whispered, smiling at the look of shock that fell over Sherlock's expression as the detective's pupils dilated. "Absolute perfection." 

Sherlock's breathing became heavy as he moved to his previous position over John, smoothing his hands over John's chest and down his thighs. He spread John's legs open underneath him and lowered his head, breathing in the musky scent of John with a trembling breath. 

"My beautiful boy..." John whispered as he shivered at the feeling of Sherlock's hand on his skin, his nose tickling the delicate skin at the base of his cock. He exhaled shakily, his finger's moving to rest gently in Sherlock's hair. "Fuck, Sherlock..."

Sherlock's face flamed at John's words, each compliment sending a spark of pleasure down his spine and straight to his cock. He tentatively swiped his tongue over the slightly fuzzed skin of John's balls, all the way up to the tip, and groaned loudly at the sharp, bitter taste as a fresh pulse of precome hit his tongue. 

John's head hit the pillow hard and his free hand raised to his hair to grip tightly, the pain helping to ground him.

"Sherlock, stop... I'm going to...fuck, I'm going to come if you do that again. Oh my God..."

John was panting now, a pained look on his face as he slowly let go of his hair and opened his eyes to see Sherlock kneeling above him with a thoughtful expression.

"What's going on in that mind of yours, gorgeous?" He whispered, and watched in fascination as Sherlock's pupils expanded again at the praise, confirming his earlier suspicion.

_So Sherlock has a praise kink, that's definitely something to think about..._

Sherlock's eyes suddenly seemed to snap back to focus, with a look of resolve.

"I want you to fuck me."

John was fairly certain his jaw hit the floor. 

He opened his mouth to speak, only to realise that he'd forgotten how.

"John?"

The first attempt to clear his now very dry throat failed him, and he tried again as he shook his head, trying to wake himself up from the dream he was clearly having. "Erm... sorry, what?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't be tedious John, you heard me perfectly the first time. I want you to fuck me," he repeated, enunciating each word perfectly as John tried to comprehend what he was being asked to do. 

"If you'd rather not, I understand. I've read that to fully enjoy the benefits of sex one must be attracted to the person they are to... engage in sexual activity...."

"Sherlock, stop right there!" John said, snapped out of his previous shock by Sherlock's ludicrous notion that John wasn't attracted enough to want to... "Christ, how are you so intelligent, yet so dumb at the same time?"

Sherlock looked affronted by John's words, and opened his mouth to speak when John sat up abruptly and cut him off with a chaste kiss.

"You are the most amazing, beautiful, _exquisite_ creature I have ever laid my eyes on," John breathed with clear sincerity. "I just don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for. I'd said we'd go at your pace, and I meant it Sherlock."

Sherlock stared down at his hands for a moment, as he nibbled nervously on his lower lip. "I'm ready, John. I want this. Please."

John leaned forwards and suckled Sherlock's swollen lower lip into his mouth, chasing the detective's tongue with his own. He kissed him deeply, his hands roaming over the perfect marble skin of Sherlock's back, before pulling away and whispering breathlessly into his ear, "I'll be right back, get into a comfortable position for me, beautiful."

Sherlock couldn't hold back his moan as a fresh wave of arousal sent tingles through his whole body. He watched as John left the room, his gaze momentarily drawn to the curve of John's arse, before turning on the bed so he was lying on his back. When John returned a moment later it was with a bottle of lube and a condom gripped nervously in his hands.

"I didn't know if you wanted to use this," he started, holding up the condom with an embarrassed look on his face. "I'm clean, I get tested regularly, but..."

"I am clean, John. Mycroft made me get tested after I went into rehab," Sherlock spoke quietly, his eyes watching John carefully. He breathed a sigh of relief when the blond smiled and left the condom on the dresser.

John made his way to the bed slowly, climbing onto the bed on top of Sherlock and bending down to kiss him sweetly. "Are you absolutely certain you want this, Sherlock?"

Sherlock answered by reaching down to skilfully wriggle out of the boxers that still covered him, and pull John down until their cocks were flush and throbbing against each other.

They both groaned as Sherlock bucked his hips up and they slid together smoothly, aided by the considerable amount of precome that was steadily leaking from Sherlock's tip. John pulled back reluctantly and inhaled shakily.

"We'll both be done before we've begun if we carry on like that," he said breathlessly, as he flipped open the cap on the lube with a loud pop.

He lowered his hand, and bent to kiss Sherlock as he flicked the tip of his finger over Sherlock's untouched hole. The detective arched off the bed with a cry, his nerve endings firing with electricity. John repeated the motion, fascinated by Sherlock's beautiful cries of bliss.

"You're so responsive," he whispered in captivation, and he applied a little pressure as he continued to stroke until he felt the tip of his finger breach the hole. 

"Ffffuck!" Sherlock cried, the pool of precome growing as he continued to leak copiously onto his stomach. 

John was enraptured. How had this gorgeous man chose _him_ , such an plain, broken ex-soldier with nothing spectacular about him, for something so important? 

"Okay?" John asked, as he proceeded to move just the tip of his finger in and out, acclimatising Sherlock to the new sensation. Sherlock nodded frantically and keened noisily when John's finger slid in all the way and started thrusting, the burning of the stretch only furthering his arousal.

"John, oh _fuck, John_!" Sherlock's eyes were wet with unshed tears, and seeing Sherlock in such a state of ecstasy made John's heart beat roar in his ears. If there was a more erotic sound in the world than Sherlock's cries of pleasure, he didn't want to know about it.

John tentatively slipped the tip of his second finger in against the first, pushing in a little more with every thrust until Sherlock's muscles acquiesced and he was taking a third before he knew what was happening. All too soon John's fingers slipped out of him and he felt an emptiness he'd never known before. A tear slid down his face as he opened his eyes to see John hovering over him, a gentle smile on his face as the blond leaned over and kissed the salty liquid away with a light brush of lips.

He felt something solid and blunt pushing gently at his entrance, and he _screamed_ as John slowly slipped in inch by blissful inch, nudging his way past the tight rings of muscle with small thrusts of his hips. John bit his lip to keep from crying out as his cock was enveloped in tight, wet, _perfect_ heat, but Sherlock was loud enough for the both of them. As he started to thrust he could tell that he'd found Sherlock's prostate by the inhuman sounds the brunet was making. He should be worried that Mrs Hudson could surely hear Sherlock's cries of euphoria, but with the pleasure building so incredibly fast and absolute he couldn't bring himself to give a fuck as he gripped Sherlock's hips and his thrusts into the younger man's body turned absolutely brutal.

Sherlock was making sounds that would rival any porn star and it was doing nothing to help abate John's need to come. When he felt Sherlock's hole start to convulse around him with an earth shattering scream torn from the detective's throat, John's entire body tensed, and he came harder than he ever had in his life as Sherlock's muscles milked every last drop from him in a overwhelmingly intense orgasm.

It felt like hours before either of them spoke again, and John broke the silence with a laugh that echoed through the room.

Sherlock turned his head towards the laughter with a odd mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's so funny, John?"

John's hand raised to wipe a stray sweat soaked curl from Sherlock's face, as he took a minute to catch his breath. 

"Mrs Hudson will never believe that you stubbed your toe this time, you don't even have a console table in your bedroom."

Sherlock chose to ignore the completely lack of sense in John's words, to point out the obvious mistake. "Our room, John."

John's smile spread to his eyes and he leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Sherlock's.

"I love you, Sherlock," he whispered, and waited for the reply that would make his heart race with adoration.

Sherlock grunted and sighed, and muttered a very quiet, "Idiot."

And there it was.


End file.
